Dedication: This
story is dedicated to Lenore in recognition of her effective prodding.

Notes: Thank you very much to Lenore and Jacyn for beta.
Set during H.M.S. Surprise, there are some vague spoilers for H.M.S.
Surprise and Post Captain.

Jack Aubrey surveyed the motionless sea and empty horizon with a look
of supreme dissatisfaction. Drifting off the coast of Africa the
trifling morning breeze had abandoned them yet again with still no sign
of the south-east trades. The ship’s log told their pathetic story:
12º15’N., 30º22’W today; 12º10’N, 30º14’W the day
before. Admittedly,
there was precious little to do in this dead calm, but Jack remarked a
disturbing tenor of general listlessness about the men; and despite his
prejudice against having a parson aboard, since he had been saddled
with one he wondered if a sermon might not be just the thing. He would
speak to Mr. White directly about including injunctions to hard work
and duty in his Sunday sermon. This put Jack in mind of Stephen’s most
unflattering, not to mention raucous and undignified, amusement at
Jack’s expense when he had proposed to give a sermon upon the Lively. A
prick of annoyance clouded his brow at the memory, deepening to a
darker emotion as he considered that he had not seen such mirth from
his friend since that time, certainly not since Port Mahon.

Jack
made his way to Stephen’s cabin, turning over in his mind a few
well-stored clever phrases he’d been jealously saving for the right
moment. Jack was still musing on how best to induce Stephen to mention
lions when he found him; Stephen was attempting and failing to light a
lantern with awkward, trembling hands. “Allow me,” Jack said as he
reached for the tinder.

“Your soul to the devil, Jack Aubrey!”
Stephen cried without the least trace of humor. He scowled and looked
most fearsome as he snatched his hands away. Jack felt himself stung to
the quick; he had grown accustomed, of course, to Stephen’s foul humor
and refusal of aid, yet this instance, coming when he had been of a
particular mind to please the man, Jack found especially hard to bear.

Jack
looked quickly down at the floor, attempting to hide his wounded
expression and check his tongue from making some sharp recrimination.
He spoke at last with as much measured calm as he could muster: “You
might moderate your tone, sir, at the very least recalling that I am
your very great friend and not your enemy.”

Silence reigned
between them for quite some time; whatever expressions of dismay or
regret passed over Stephen’s features Jack did not remark as he
continued to focus his gaze upon his own feet.

When Stephen
spoke it was in a cool, clipped tone, “I fear I have been an ungrateful
wretch. I apologize. I shall be more conscious from here on out of the
immense debt that I owe you. You have recalled to me that I owe you my
employment, my place in the world, as well as my very life.”

Jack
was greatly distressed, both by Stephen’s words and their delivery.
“Have you forgotten the many times you’ve sewn me up, man? My great
illness in Spain which you tirelessly saw me through?”

“That was
no more than medical ethics required of me, and I’d have done the same
for any poor unfortunate brute who came under my care. What is more, I
risked nothing in caring for you in this manner whereas you risked
everything for me.”

A sharp dismay engulfed Jack. Could Stephen
truly believe Jack intended to lord the circumstances of his escape
over him in this coarse manner, or was this a deliberate
misunderstanding, another example of Stephen’s obstinance? “Stephen,
you have mistaken my meaning so entirely I know scarcely how to make it
plain. This talk of you being in my debt is stuff and nonsense; you
must abandon such ridiculous notions at once. If you simply endeavored
to be a sight less bloody minded—” Jack paused and began again for that
had come out all wrong— “I mean to say, if you could accept my willing,
my most abundantly willing, aid from time to time, it would do me a
great service, for it is only in this manner that I ease my conscience,
and it is I who ought to bear up better under your deserved anger,
coming so late as I did.” Perhaps in the rush of words and sentiment
Jack had said more than he intended, but it was all most true. Indeed,
until this point Jack had been almost grateful for Stephen’s foul
humor, swallowing the black looks and verbal assaults with the relieved
air of a sinner doing penance. For, ever since Mahon the thought had
reverberated in Jack’s head that he should have known, should have
known, should have known. Stephen had been sharp with everyone, to be
sure, but most sharp with Jack, unerringly foul tempered toward any and
all attempts made to see to his comfort, but Jack had felt it well
deserved, for he should have arrived sooner. He should have known.

They
stood silently in the semi-darkness for a time, each man lost in his
own thoughts; and Jack—sensing regretfully that Stephen had no
intention of favoring him with a similarly intimate confession—readied
himself to take his leave.

“Jack,” Stephen’s call checked his
departure. He spoke so softly that Jack scarcely wanted to draw breath
lest he drown out the sound, “I do not know—that is to say, there is
some concern—rather, perhaps you ought to begin practicing the Corelli
sonata in F major you’re so fond of; I fear you may have a career ahead
of you as a soloist.”

Through his painful awareness of
Stephen’s grief, which so added to his own, Jack was scarcely conscious
of his actions; the imperative to give comfort thoroughly commanded
him, and it seemed one instant he was standing some feet apart from
Stephen and the next he was nearly on top of him, gently taking
Stephen’s hands in his, brushing the nail-less fingertips across his
lips. Nor did Jack realize his eyes were closed until he opened them to
find Stephen’s face so very close, their noses practically touching.
Though to be certain they had found themselves in such proximity
before, Jack could not recall his breath coming so short on those
occasions or feeling quite so exposed by Stephen’s piercing gaze.

Perfect
inanities passed through his head. He thought, “Stephen has been eating
onions,” and then, “I wonder was it his mother or his father gave him
that curious eye color,” and finally, “I should move away.” The last
repeated in his mind, more forceful: “I must move away this instant.”
But instead he opened his mouth to speak, “Stephen I—”

Stephen’s
kisses were salty and fiercer than any woman’s. After the first few
moments they took on a passionate desperation Jack could never have
imagined lurked beneath Stephen’s chaste exterior. “We are breaking the
law,” Jack thought, bringing his arms up to engulf Stephen’s slighter
form and clasping him close.

More kisses, a flurry of kisses
that could scarcely keep pace with Jack’s swiftly mounting desire. A
fumbling sort of dance backwards to Stephen’s sleeping cot wherein Jack
removed Stephen’s waistcoat as well as his own and unfastened Stephen’s
breeches. He surprised himself with his own precipitate haste, his
sudden burning need.

“Jack, Jack,” Stephen whispered
breathlessly as Jack settled over him, “I haven’t the slightest notion
of how it is done.” Jack quieted him with a kiss. A firm hand round
Stephen’s straining shaft eliminated any need of further conversation;
the simple language of Stephen’s gasps and low, bitten-off moans filled
the cabin. Jack wanted to memorize every sound, swallow every
particular of the experience to hold within himself forever—the solid
warm feel of Stephen in his hand, the salty taste of the sweat that
gathered in the hollow of Stephen’s throat, the bright intensity of
Stephen’s eyes—every detail of the moment was precious to him.

Jack
had never before taken such satisfaction in the sight of another’s
pleasure as he did now watching Stephen, so much so that he felt close
to the brink himself when at last the moment of climax arrived, and
Stephen threw his head back, mouth gaping wide open as he released
soft, pulsing cries, spilling hot and slippery into Jack’s hand. Jack
felt a profound tenderness, overwhelming in its intensity. He indulged
his desire to curl around Stephen and clasp him close, wanting to be a
shield between Stephen and the rest of the world. Jack had never known
another man could inspire such delicate sentiments, but in truth,
almost from the day he’d met Stephen he had felt this desire to shelter
and protect him.

Stephen lay still in Jack’s embrace for a
time, then began stroking his hand along the rise in Jack’s breeches.
The light touch was sufficient to further ignite Jack’s desire but
provided no relief. Impatient, Jack freed himself and took himself in
hand, stroking hard and fast while Stephen held him and kissed his
brow, caressing his back and buttocks. At last that freeing moment of
sweet release came, and Jack buried his face against Stephen’s neck to
stifle his cries. He lay there for a long time, letting Stephen’s
gentle fingers in his hair soothe him until he was able to collect
himself.

As one they moved to wash and straighten up, and then
to sit side by side on the cot. The silence between them felt
companionable and unstrained. They seemed to have found harmony as
quickly in this new circumstance as they had in all others, and Jack
reflected that although this passion between them had come up quite
sudden, he could not claim to be surprised by it. His impression was
that Stephen felt much the same way, and when he reached to hold
Stephen’s hand, he met no resistance.

“My dear,” Stephen said
very seriously, touching Jack’s face to bring their gazes level, “you
are to cease this useless melancholy and self-recrimination at once.
Had I my wits fully about me, I would have suspected that your
emotional, British nature had led you to such folly and reassured you
much sooner. There is nothing to be gained from this type of gloomy
rumination, and indeed, as your physician, I warn you it can only have
a negative effect upon your humors, a debilitating consumptive effect
most dangerous in a man of your constitution. You arrived at exactly
the right moment, joy; you carried the day. You must leave off these
dramatic notions forthwith.”

Jack conceded at least to attempt
to follow Stephen’s admonishment, though privately he doubted he’d be
free of his guilt for quite some time, and felt that this entitled him
to extract a promise of his own. “Stephen, no more talk of your—” he
did not wish to be indelicate— “my musical career. You have it all
wrong, don’t you see? For so long as I’ve you at my side I’ll never be
so low. Ha, ha! D’you smoke it? I won’t be so low? Ha, ha, ha.”

Stephen
grimaced and made some disparaging remarks about the intellect and
character of one who would stoop to such low puns, but his smile
fighting to break free robbed the harsh words of their conviction, and
in time, as Jack’s round, hearty merriment continued to ring out,
beneath it could be heard the higher-pitched, squeaking sounds of
Stephen’s helpless laughter.